Sleeping Elves
by StarsAreMassive
Summary: When one elf has finally found some rest in the White City, his friends begin to wonder about him, and mischievous Istari spill some secrets.


"Be careful my love, or you shall catch flies."

Eowyn jolted, spinning around and clutching the soft linen blankets she had just been taking to the healing halls.

Faramir's eyes were twinkling as he fixed her with a steady gaze. To her relief, he was not judgemental, nor was he offended at the object of her attentions. The blankets that she held would have been in the healing wards minutes before (altogether nearly half an hour if she was inclined to be honest with herself) had she not come across the sight which lay before her.

The war had been won at Sauron's gates, and the fighters had been afforded a generous respite within the walls of the White City before their long journeys home. However, many had caught only snatches of sleep here and there. Whether this be down to black dreams wrought from the lingering imprints of shadow, was each man's own business; yet it was clear all were determined to help repair the City. Though it would be weeks before the proper reconstruction would begin, all were giving a helping hand in clearing away rubble and debris, and building temporary housing for those who had lost their homes in the siege.

After the third day, even the hardiest of warriors had been forced to retire for a full day's rest. Eomer, Faramir and Gimli had eaten and slept most of that day away, only to rise to eat again, and fall into their beds soon after. Aragorn had soon followed their example, handing the smaller of his duties (as he had not seen his coronation yet) to a handful of good, honest Lords of the House with his approval, and after filling his belly, he had slept all day and all night.

But the sun had brought a new day, and there was still one from among the hardiest warriors who had yet to take his rest by dawn. Though not one to admit such things, Eowyn had always held the elven companion of Aragorn and Gimli with an awestruck respect, which had only been cemented when she had witnessed his skills in battle, and of course the manner in which he had dealt with their horses in Rohan. She had been stunned when Arod – a notoriously temperamental mount who required much mastery – had borne a new and alien creature, without saddle or reigns, and moreso when the horse had sought out its new master after Theoden had been recovered from Saruman's grasp. She had watched Legolas whisper a strange tongue into Arod's ear, smiling sweetly into the horse's mane, and send him easily back to the stables.

Whilst Gondor was being steadily cleared, like the others Legolas had flitted to wherever he was needed; between the healing halls and clearing great sections of the crumbled wall, consoling scarred warriors, and even she had heard many maidens tell, saving a young girl's stuffed toy – the only memento left of her destroyed home – from a particularly high tree. Yet unlike his friends, Legolas had not stopped. He had not slept at all from what she knew, and she had seen him eat on a very rare occasion, only joining Aragorn and Gimli with a handful of berries and a small slice of bread, scampering off before anyone else had finished. So if she were to be fully honest, the sight before her didn't surprise her at all.

She had entered the small hall, always full of activity, and after a moment of getting her bearings (not quite sure which direction the healing halls were again), she had noticed the general noise was somewhat dimmed, though not absent. One sound in particular which caught her ear, was the tittering of a small group of women to her right. They hid their smiles behind their hands and gazed across the hall. Thinking they were being cruel – perhaps about another woman's skirts – she had given them a sharp look and they had hurried off. But when she had looked again, she had seen how mistaken she was. On a cushioned bench, lay a lithe figure with a golden head.

So tall was he, that his legs, from the knee down, dangled gracefully over the arm of the bench. At the other end, his fair head rested on a slender hand, the other arm cast above his head and over the arm in mimickery of his legs. His face was in full view, unobscured by any falling strands of his hair.

And Eowyn was struck.

Though the feelings that had been stirred by Faramir were strong and permanent, she was no fool. She was a woman, and thusly more than willing enough to concede to the devastating beauty of this elf. His skin, so much paler than hers, out-shone the snow of last winter, whilst his hair she was sure would strike the sun with jealously. And his face was so...beautiful. With his eyes closed she could see his lashes glitter against prominent yet delicate cheekbones. His lips were slack with sleep, and parted only so slightly. They were as the opening leaves of the rosebud, and perfectly pink. Yet one could not look at him and called him feminine. The lines of his arms and shoulders, and the obvious strength in his legs dispelled any such notion the men - of Rohan and Gondor alike – had been inclined to make about one of the fair folk.

And this was how Faramir found her. Staring like a child.

"I- Faramir, I -", she had stammered, flustered and embarrassed.

But the man had only laughed lowly and taken her hand. "Fear not, Eowyn. If my only competition is an elf, then I can only be grateful that I am held in such high esteem in your affections," he teased.

Her cheeks coloured prettily and she smiled, priding herself on meeting his eyes, and not glancing to the floor like she had seen several other ridiculous females do when they were around a man they admired.

"I mean nothing by it, my Lord Faramir," she murmured. "But...just look at him."

Faramir laughed. "Aye it is easy to be struck by the First-born I think. Throughout the city I've seen people openly looking at him with such awe. We are not alone in our admirations I think, Lady Eowyn. Though he must be exhausted."

"Aye indeed. I had believed elves to be deeply private creatures, and here he sleeps in the open."

"True, but more than that dear lady, he sleeps with his eyes closed."

Eowyn furrowed her brow and narrowed her eyes at Faramir, sure he was making a joke at her expense. As her lips formed a thin line, Faramir's grinned in response as he chuckled again, and held the flat of his palms up in surrender.

"Peace, shieldmaiden!" he smiled. "I do not try to confuse you. Do you not know?"

"I shall if you tell me," she replied, arms crossing her chest.

"It was your dear brother that told me." Eowyn arched her brow at this. "That elves sleep with their eyes open. He was recalling his travels with the three hunters, of a time when our elf gave the men quite a fright. I asked Lord Aragorn about it and sure enough he confirmed it. For an elf's eyes to be closed in sleep, means that they must be very tired indeed."

Eowyn's expression changed from stern, to amused, to concerned throughout Faramir's account, and by its end, was clutching onto her blankets again.

"Aye of course he is!" she hissed. "The poor thing has been running around after everyone scarce taking any heed of his own needs."

She unfurled a blanket, hurling the rest of the bundle into Faramir's arms and scurried forward. Gently, so as not to wake him, Eowyn placed a blanket around Legolas's middle, carefully tucking it into place so as to block out any drafts that swept through the hall. As she patted him affectionately, she heard a gravelly chuckle that was distinctly not Faramir's. She looked up to find Gandalf the Wizard laughing at her antics.

"Though you intentions commend you my dear," he said. "They are wholly unnecessary. Elves feel the cold a lot less keenly than the rest of us. Why, on Caradhras, he gallavanted about in his tunic and boots whilst the rest of us shivered under heavy furs!"

Eowyn did her best to hide her blush and walked back to where Gandalf and Faramir stood together, which only served to make the old Istari chuckle harder. "But do not be embarrassed, Lady Eowyn. You would not be the only one who has felt compelled to look after the greenleaf. He seems to inspire motherly concern in almost all those he comes across. Shall I tell you the story of his first meeting with the Lady Arwen?"

"Lord Aragorn's betrothed?" she asked as she took the wizard's arm, and together with Faramir they left the hall.

"Aye the very same. Though this was a very long time ago, before Aragorn, or yourself, or even your great great great grandfathers were born!" He laughed at their surprise. "Do not ask me his age. Elves count time differently and I'm not sure which you would understand better. Best ask the leaf yourself if you feel so inclined. Now, as I was saying. Legolas was but a child on his first visit to Rivendell, even in the eyes of man. He was only just learning his speech if I remember the story correctly, and very unsteady on his legs," Gandalf laughed. "Arwen herself was a little older, though not by much. She could talk fairly well and had long since learned the skills of walking, though running was more her sport. She was what you would see as little more than a toddler. Perhaps six years to men. Her father and mother, the Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian, had taken Arwen and her two older brothers, Elrohir and Elladan, into their study one afternoon, to explain that in a few days, a very important visiting delegation from Lasgalen would be arriving, and with it would come the King and Queen with their new elfling.

Now, relationships between Rivendell and Lasgalen, though generally good, have been the most tried and tested of all the elven realms in recent times, and so the visit would cement the peace and goodwill between them that had prevailed for the last century. Elrond and his wife impressed upon their children how imperative it was that they be on their absolute best behaviour, and they had all promised quite solemnly to do so.

The day of the visit arrived, and the family, and all other elven Lords and Ladies gathered to welcome their visitors. At the head of the group of elves, was the elvenking, Thranduil Oropherion, and soon behind him followed his wife, Queen Liniel, though she was without an armful of child, as everyone expected."

"Where was the child? And what does this have to do with Legolas meeting Arwen?" asked Eowyn, becoming impatient with the Wizard's way of storytelling.

"I am coming to that my lady. As Thranduil dismounted, he greeted Elrond and his family in the usual fashion. As he bowed, young Arwen noticed something mightily unusual about the form of his back. She looked up to her mother to ask the question, but a soft shake of the head kept her silence, and when the King greeted Arwen herself, she was perfectly polite and didn't mention a thing. However, then her father asked;

'My good king Thranduil, Queen Liniel, it does me good to see you again mellyn-nin. But I do believe there is still an introduction to be made. Tell me, where is the princeling? This House desires to greet and welcome him always, to Imladris.'

Arwen was very excited at this, as she had never seen another elfling before. She was the youngest in Imladris you see, and she had longed to see the young Prince ever since her mother had told her about him. To her great surprise, Thranduil unbuckled a cotton strap across his chest, and into his arms he swept from his back a swaddled bundle, to reveal a half awake elf-prince concealed within. Now, whilst the twin brothers peered in closer for a better look, and Celebrian prepared to take the young child from the King, Arwen let out a great shout for one so small!

'You cannot do that!'

And imagine, she was looking directly at the elvenking!"

Faramir laughed in shock. "She shouted at King Thranduil?"

"Aye indeed, and proceeded to scold him most severely. You see, she and many of her friends had heard the older elf-maiden's discussing babes and child-rearing and were debating amongst themselves about the correct way to hold a child. Arwen had somehow come across the old myth about swaddling making babies bow-legged and stopping the elves from jumping in the trees as they got older! And this she told the King in great detail. Of course her mother and father had tried to silence her, but on and on she went. But to everyone's relief, the King only smiled at her, and laughed at her indignation, and deemed her a sweet child for her concern. Yet what she did next surprised even the King. As the child, now more awake, moved in his hold to see her better, and she got a glimpse of blue eyes and fine blonde hair, she walked up to the elvenking – as bold as a hobbit! And she took the babe from his very arms.

'Here,' she said as she took him. 'I shall show you how to do it properly when you have finished greeting everyone.' And with that she walked off into Elrond's halls, princeling in tow and no sign of coming back. Indeed, the King and Queen did not see their only child again until the afternoon meal!"

Eowyn and Faramir laughed in disbelief, Gandalf at his memories as a horrified Elrond had told him the story not months after that very visit.

"So there you are Eowyn," Faramir stammered through his chuckles. "Mothering elves is a common practice even amongst their own kin. What hope do us mere mortals have?"

"Aye very well Faramir," said Eowyn. "But Gandalf, I do not see how this has anything to do with Legolas. He was not even in the story."

Gandalf considered her for a moment, before falling into raucous laughter yet again, startling a poor housemaid so severely that she dropped a vase on her husband's foot. "Good grief that leaf knows how to keep his secrets. He truly does take after that father of his! My dear Eowyn, Legolas's full name is Legolas Thranduilion; 'Legolas, son of Thranduil'."

Faramir blanched. "Oh... _Oh_. Oh no." Over Gandalf's maniacal giggling, Faramir painfully remembered several situations and conversations which he would never have wished to share with an elven-Prince. Some of the things he had said to Legolas after a cup too many of wine. Some of the things he'd done... "Oh dear."

Slowly, the realisation dawned over Eowyn. "Thranduil. Legolas is the son of the elvenking Thranduil? But that would make him-"

"The elf-prince of Eryn Lasgalen," Gandalf finished happily.

What the Wizard did not expect however, was the thwack around the head, and subsequent attack on the rest of his body.

"Why did you not tell us you trickster?!" Eowyn admonished, hands now well restrained by Faramir, who had received his own strikes for his trouble. "My brother – my uncle, myself! Such a breach in propriety and customs and traditions when he came to Rohan. Had we known -"

"Had you known the enemy could have too! Could you imagine what Saruman or Sauron himself could have done with that knowledge? That the only child of the elvenking, who continued to thwart their efforts in Dol Guldur, lay within mere leagues? No, Eowyn, as soon as Legolas was allowed to venture beyond the kingdom boundaries, he was taught well the value of secrecy and anonymity."

"I know your truth," Eowyn reluctantly agreed. "But that does not make me feel better."

Faramir looked up at her sheepish tone and was shocked to see her blushing profusely.

"What did you do?" He almost laughed. But he was not a Ranger for nothing, and his sense of self-preservation advised him to keep his silence.

"I-" she stammered. Steeling herself, Eowyn took a steadying breath. "After helm's deep. One of those great beasts had hidden in the caves, and snagged me by my bodice strings to capture me. I managed to slay him but he had pulled too tight, and the cursed cloth was crushing my very chest, I'm sure of it."

"Women's clothing is rarely fashioned to be practical in battle my lady," Gandalf teased, undeterred by her answering scowl.

"What then?" Faramir prompted.

"Well... I couldn't breathe. I had no breath to call out for help, and had ordered all of the others in the cave to leave by other passages. But luck was with me. Legolas was passing, to see if the caves were clear and he spotted me. But by then -" she glanced ruefully at Faramir.

"By then?"

"I was out of breath, and suffocating. And Legolas acted so quickly, as he had no choice. By the Maeras I am so embarrassed!"

"Eowyn?"

She hastily mumbled something under her breath, suddenly finding the stonework beneath their feet fascinating.

Gandalf it seemed, had heard. He looked as a man conflicted. At a glance he seemed solemn, but when one looked closer, you could see his bushy white brow and smiling lips quirking and twitching all over his face.

"I am sorry my lady, could you say that again. So other humans could hear?" Faramir asked.

"Legolas... he cut off my bodice... The Prince of Eryn Lasgalen had to rescue me from my own clothing! He saw me in my undress!"

Her long-fingered hands were clasped over her mouth in horror at her own confession. Faramir fought desperately to maintain his neutral facade, raising only a slightly surprised brow. After all, it was the choice between life or death to laugh at Eowyn's plight. Gandalf again, it seemed, had no such qualms, and resorted to leaning on his staff so as to stop himself from falling over.

"It is not that bad, my love," he said, voice passably even. "And Legolas is gentlemanly. I'm sure he will never mention it."

"Mention what?" Aragorn appeared around a corner. "Our elf can be devilish at times my friends, make no mistake," he grinned.

"My Lord Aragorn," Faramir bowed hastily, to hide his face and keep his hard-won composure. As he rose he saw Aragorn's easy smile slip off his face as he spied unbridled horror spread across the lady's fair face.

He jumped in to distract Aragorn, lest he add to his love's discomfort. "I have those blankets, for the healing halls," he smiled. "At your undress – _request_!"

Down the hall, Legolas awoke to the sounds of Eowyn, hurling abuse he had never heard from a female's lips at her beloved. As he walked the halls back to his room, he saw the Steward streak into the halls of healing, and spied the great White Wizard, collapsed on the floor and howling in laughter.

Perhaps, he thought, he was still dreaming.


End file.
